


Underneath The Purple Skies

by BucketFullOfTears



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Black Hat losing power, Character Death, Character Development, Everyone is 18 and up, Except 5.0.5., Guardian Demon, He's just a baby uwu, M/M, Mentions of drugs, Mind Control, Someone wants Black Hat and Flug dEAD, Teen Angst, hide the gays smh, if u squint, mentions of alternate universes, music inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BucketFullOfTears/pseuds/BucketFullOfTears
Summary: Flug Slys is tired of being pushed around by his peers. It’s senior year and he wants vengeance on every last one of them; he wants the world to pay for their artless sins.So, underneath the purple skies, he makes a wish to the early stars.





	Underneath The Purple Skies

_"I'm no James Dean_

_Heartthrob daydream_

_Bad hair, black jeans_

_Not cool suits me_

_Girls won't date me_

_Guys all hate me_

_Guess that must mean_

_I'm no James Dean"_

[(The Wrecks, Panic Vertigo - EP)](https://youtu.be/hq96Dtj8SM8)

* * *

 

He wanted to be the sky.

Countless times he had thought about the anatomy of the body above him; the clouds would be his mind, darkened by his heavy thoughts and only ever cleared by the sweet music of wind. And, on the days he felt dispirited, his raindrops would fall to the ground, only to drown everyone who still stood tall on planet earth.

But today he had to make do with the rain, the thick layer of black dirt on his combat boots, and his headphones on full volume. As he entered the school he could see the lips of one of the teachers, smothered in red lipstick in a vain attempt to cover her lack of authority, scold him for leaving a trace of mud and dirt behind him. He rolled his eyes and took his headphones off.

“Name?” The woman asked.

“Flug. Flug Slys.”

The woman paused, visually eyeing him up and down. “We don’t allow goggles in this school outside of the labs,” she pointed to the goggles covering his eyes.

“I’ve worn this everyday since middle school. I’m not going to start taking it off now am I? And as for the floors, the janitor could use a work out.” He eyed her up and down like she had done to him. “And from the looks of it you should give him a hand.”

Before the woman could respond he made his way to class, setting his headphones around his neck.

At the back of the room he saw a hand motion him to come over. He knew it was Demencia, the closest thing Flug had to a friend. He had known her just before she dyed her hair green and hot pink. Flug was the only person who knew she had been from foster family to foster family since middle school when he met her. At eighteen she started living on her own, occasionally inviting Flug to a blunt in the back of the school or something harder when the day called for it in the woods. Most of the time he would just watch and keep her company, but some days he had to escape his reality.

He sat on the desk to Demencia’s right, letting his backpack fall with a loud thunk.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, nerd! Did you hear? Once class starts they’re sending everyone to the auditorium, something about a speaker I guess.”

Before Flug could reply the bell rang and the teacher clapped his hands to get the attention of those who were still caught up in their own conversations. “Now, now class. Instead of proceeding with today’s lecture it appears we have a surprise speaker today so grab your belongings and head over to the auditorium.”  People had already begun picking up their bags, leaving the class mid-sentence.

Demencia hung her backpack over her shoulder and asked, “wanna ditch?”

“Not today. I already risked talking back to a teacher today, and if we get caught again we’ll get detention for the fourth time this semester. My parents already threatened to take my phone away and I can’t go another month with out music.” He glared at Demencia.

  
“It’s not my fault we got caught last time! I tripped on a stupid book.”

Flug sighed and walked out of the room, Demencia following behind. As they walked down the hall, the crowd of people making their way in the same direction, Flug felt a certain tug on his jacket that abruptly stopped him, making him gasp from the sudden motion. A taller boy swung his frail body into a locker and in his moment of pain he slouched to the floor. Flug looked up to see it was Kent, the boy who had self proclaimed Flug as his favorite punching bag. Technically he was a year older than he was but Kent had gotten held back his last senior year. Flug rued the day they let him retake the year.

“Not so fast, FlugFuck. Do you have the work I asked for?”

Flug felt so infuriated, so disgusted he felt he had to spit the bad taste out of his mouth. But he knew better than to talk back to a caveman who’s brain had only just barely reached the intelligence of a modern 3 year olds brain. He reached in his backpack and pulled out an assortment of papers. In the corner of his eye he could see Demencia just about ready to fight them. That was the last thing Flug wanted right now, seeing as Kent was the only son of the principal and his father the state senator, he knew if either of them put a finger on Kent they wouldn’t live to see graduation. There were four other boys surrounding Flug. Demencia liked to call them Kent’s Personal Ball-Lickers. And he couldn’t argue it wasn’t true.

“Looks like goggle-boy here just loves sucking up to you,” another boy said, using a baseball bat to raise Flug’s chin, “I bet he  _swings_  a different way—“

Flug grabbed the end of the bat and pushed it into his chest, making him fall on his back. Without haste, Flug slid his thin body between Kent’s legs, his overly dramatic stance giving him enough space. Demencia didn’t waste a second to pull him off the ground and start running.

Behind them he could hear the boys yelling their names.

Demencia pushed seven people out of the way to get into the auditorium and once they were inside they ran all the way to the top of the bleachers and hid at the far corners.

“Who do those shits think they are?”

Flug shrugged and rubbed his arm that had hit against the locker. He hated Kent and his crew, he hated being used but every bruise on both his arms and torso reminded to stay quiet. There just wasn’t justice for the outcasts.

The auditorium was at full capacity in the span of ten minutes. Once the microphone had been installed, the senior class president spoke.

“Good morning everyone, as you’ve heard we have a very special someone who will be taking to us about...” she looked at a notecard she held in her hand, “teenage disillusionment. So please welcome Rose Parch.”

As the class president left, another woman took her place. As she put her lips towards the microphone, the lights in the back of the gym went out, making it dark behind her. Flug could tell it wasn’t on purpose because he could see the teachers down below scurrying to figure out what happened.

“Morning,” the woman said, black hair covering half of her face. Her all-black attire made her look gloomy, and her voice was shy as if she hadn’t fully planned on speaking. What caught Flug’s attention was her eyes, they were a clear purple and the veins on her face were a light shade of lilac.“I see you were expecting Rose Parch to show up but unfortunately she’s dead in the back of my car right now. I’m Hannah Parch and I’ve come with a warning,” there were many students muttering, wondering if she was just joking about her sister being dead.

“Everything you’ve ever known is a lie. Tell me, how many of you believe that villains and heroes are just fiction, like Batman, Superman, The Joker, even demons and angels,” she looked at all the hands that had gone up. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. The forces are among us, my youth. Doomsday is close, very close,” her voice hitched, her body shaking uncontrollably, a different kind of mad in her eyes. Flug hadn’t even realized she was crying until he heard a sob.

Slowly, the woman held up her hands, covered in a thick layer of blood, a gun in one hand and a cross in the other.

“I killed my sister because I loved her, I didn’t want her to see when all Hell breaks loose,” she trembled and the crowd began to scream, the mass of people began to be evacuated. But Flug and Demencia sat in place. “James Dean is  _dead_ , we don’t-we don’t stand a chance against the devil, the devil who wants us dead, DEAD! He wears– _ủ̵͕̫̥̘̗̯͉̘͋͆͂̆̾̃͂̎̀͐͝͝ņ̴̳͑d̵̜̜̻̪̆͐̉ḙ̸̫͕̫̱̳̲̝̼̟͇͐ͅr̴̡̛̮̜͉̫̣̰͒̂̽͗͜ͅn̵͙̳̦͉̞̝͌̏͋̍̈́̈́͛̈́̈͑̕̕ȇ̸̫͇̳̲͎̖̳̰̣̤̒͂͝a̴̞̹̮̭̒̽͌̎̊̇̃̌͂͠t̶̨͈̪͓͍̗͎͚̣͙̟̬̄͋̀̌h̵̨͉̲̘̥͕̘̰̫̰̝̰̬̔̍͋̐́͌̽͜͝͠ ̶̮̩̲̝͙͍͈͆̊͆̀͝t̴̡̢̡̢̨̡̜̺͚̰̞̟̾̀̄̌͝͠ͅh̷̢͈̝̟̘̠͈̤̮̟̯̬͎̍͊̂e̵̢̻̫̪͉̣͇̘̓̋̾̏̈́͑̊̓̀̕̚̚̕͠ ̷̨̈p̶̣̃͆̑̈́̈̽̈́͆͘ų̶̡̧̡͇̩̘͍̖̦̖̲̗͉̆͌̀͋̂̀͒͑̍͆̈̄̎͘͝r̵̛̫͚͐̓̏̚͝͝p̴̧͕̬̙̦̺̭̦̥̥̃͐͝ͅl̶̟͙̭̙̺͇̗̆͆̾̿͐͛́̅͒́ͅe̸͉̫̟̳̳̹̼̙̫̘͈͇̎̔̏͛͆̔̄̒̕ ̴̹̆̋̿͋̓̓̔ş̸̳̳̫̬̱͆̍̕̕ͅk̸͙̼̤̮̘̩͈̮̲̞͈̔̾̍̏̌͌̆͊̎̽͘͜í̷̛̱͊̌͗͊̃͊̌̾̆͆͒͊͝ē̷̱̎̎s̶̡̧̮̦̺̍̅̐̃̓̇̓̈́͝, oh, he wears a clever disguise_ , don’t trust him, don’t trust the _devil_ ,” she held the gun to her hand and pulled the trigger in a heartbeat.

Everything happened so fast, Flug didn’t realize that Demencia was standing and tugging on his arm.

“Come on, hurry up!” She yelled.

Together, they ran and caught up with the crowd.

They were evacuated to the football field, light rain pouring from the sky, weeping its final tears. The adults were in a panic, trying to arrange busses to take them home because no one was allowed to drive or walk alone under the circumstances.

The second Demencia turned around, Flug felt a rag cover is mouth and a burning smell sting his nose. He screamed but it was muffled against the cloth; the last thing he saw was the drops of rain hitting his goggles.

* * *

  
When Flug regained consciousness the first thing he realized was the sharp pain in his back and the burning sensation of his nose. He pulled himself up off of the jagged rock he had been tossed on. He looked around, a cluster of trees all around him, the smell of wet pine trees dancing in the cool air. 

“Good, you’re awake.”

Flug hadn’t seen him, but there was Kent perched under a tree, holding something he couldn’t quite make out as his vision was still blurred.

“What the _fuck_ , Kent. Did you not see what fucking happened back there? They’re probably looking for us!”

“And they’ll only find one of us.”

Pulse banging in his ears with every step Kent took closer to him, his vision became clear. The taller boy was holding a gun and his eyes had became the same purple as the woman that had killed herself. The veins tracing his face had became a dark, bruising purple and his eyes looked tired, bags suddenly under his eyes. Around his neck he wore the bloody cross from before. He realized the gun was probably the one Hannah had used to kill herself.

Flug leaned back against the rock, slowly realizing the severity of the situation. “You can’t kill me. I know you hate me but... seriously is this some kind of sick joke? I love sick jokes as much as the next guy but this is just—”

Kent fired a shot, just barely grazing Flug’s arm.

Flug screamed, hand covering the wound and blood oozing from underneath. His skin burned, a numbing pain reaching the tips of his fingers.

He whimpered, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead, unprepared and off guard.

“I have strict orders to assure you are found dead before moonrise. We can’t let the devil find you.”

Flug was frustrated, confused, and in pain. He was beginning to think this was all some horrid trip from the drugs.

But it was all too real, the throbbing pain in his skull and the pounding in his ears a siren that it was either fight-or-flight. Kent was rambling on about a verse in the Bible and how the devil was among them when Flug kicked his knee, causing him to fall and misfire into the air. Flug took the moment to run, hand still clasped on his wound. He was dazed, unsure if he was running straight or in circles as his head screamed. He could hear Kent yelling in the distance.

It felt like an hour or so when Flug finally collapsed. His breathing was uneven and every blink he took was a second longer of darkness, until he finally passed out.

When he woke up his mouth was dry. He crawled towards the river up ahead, using his bloody hand to carry water to his chapped lips. It was late, he reckoned, as he looked down at the reflection of the sky in the water. 

He whipped his head towards the area behind him as he could hear Kent’s calls and Flug cursed every deity for making him go through this nightmare.

He looked up, the sky a saturated mess of lilac covered by specs of early stars showing their light. Across the plain, he could see a shooting star, leaving a faint trace. He closed his eyes and underneath the purple skies he made a wish; he wished for a fighting chance to survive so he could get revenge for what happened that night, for what anyone ever did to him in the past, and for a better future for himself. He just needed a  _fighting chance._

He closed his eyes and listened as Kent brushed past the branches. He braced himself for the bullet to take his life but instead he felt a breeze, a green light flashing from what he assumed was the sky. He heard a blood curdling scream–Kent, he realized. 

Flug’s eyes fluttered opened, turning his body around as he still sat. Blood was splattered across the trees. Kent’s lifeless body hanging from a tree, his eyes ripped from his sockets. His guts had been ripped out, the cord keeping him strapped was his own intestine he realized. Flug should have been scared. Every nerve in his body told him to run, but he sat there in awe and amazement. 

This was the most beautiful scene he had ever seen.

From the shadows he saw black tar make its way, a puddle forming just a few steps ahead of Flug. The green undertones in the black tar shining in the early moon light began forming a body. Flug watched, stunned as it took the form of a monster. He was well dressed, a top hat on top of his head. The monster grinned, and suddenly Flug felt all the evil in the world in one place and, Hell, did he love it.

“Greetings, Doctor Flug. I finally found you. You were in a bit of a predicament, so I took the liberty of decorating as I killed that bastard,” he motioned towards Kent, “alas, I can only do so much with so little.”

The boy paused before he replied.

“T-thank you, sir but...I think you have the wrong person. I’m not a doctor... I don’t even know you!”

The creature sighed. “In a sense you’re both right and wrong. Yes, you are Flug Slys but not my Flug Slys. You see, in my dimension he’s dead.”

Flug sat there, silent as he processed the information.

The taller man extended a gloved hand, and Flug reluctantly took it, standing back on his feet.

“So...you know me but from a different dimension?”

“Correct. I’ve traveled to many other dimensions for a replacement but all of them have either killed themselves or were killed by those purple-eyed freaks before I could arrive.” He held up the purple eyes he had yanked out of Kent. “I see you have encountered them already.”

“This woman,” Flug said, “she looked just like him before she killed herself. What’s going on? Why do they want me dead?” He looked into the creature’s eyes, the dark slits of his pupils giving him an all too knowing look. “You’re the devil, aren’t you.”

The darker figure examined him, walking around Flug in a careful circle. “I suppose that is what they call me nowadays. But I am  _so much more_  than just the devil. As for why The Messengers want you dead, it is because they know you have always been my faithful subordinate and that you place a threat in every dimension your soul carries on.”

"Well, this is the one dimension that i'm not and I plan on staying that way," Flug took a step back, a look of defiance crossing his face only to be followed by pain, his wound reminding him of his current state.

"I believe you are in no condition to reject my offer, Slys. You see, what I want from you is simple, really. Work for me and I promise to protect and defend you from all dangers other than myself."

The boy looked at the eldritch and for a moment he could remember each and every time he had ever been belittled by his peers, every sneer, snicker, and bruising they gave him. He didn't stand a chance against them. He recalled when a group of boys had punched and kicked him in the boys bathroom, forcing his face in the toilet to wash off the blood and the time the senior girls locked him in a supply closet over a three day weekend and he cried for someone to let him out only to be ignored. In this monster he saw a grimace of hope, Flug could feel the evil coming from him and it scared him how much he admired it.

The eldritch extended a tendril from his back and wrapped it around Flug's injured arm, green ooze slightly burning the boy's skin. Once he removed the black tendril Flug gasped at the healed skin.

"How did you--who are you?!"

"Black Hat, Black Hat is my name. And that's just to show you just a few of the things I can do," Black Hat gave him a toothy grin.

"Fine," Flug hesitated, "we have a deal. But what kind of work will I be doing if you are as magic as you say anyways? The only thing I have to show for are my science fair projects and bringing small animals back to life for, like, 10 minutes tops."

"Good. With the right equipment I believe you are the only one I can trust to help me from the problems I have encountered," he held out a flaming green hand, "therefore I guarantee your safety so long as you obey me. Understood?"

Flug shook the demons hand, using all the confidence he could. "Deal."

* * *

 

Flug and Black Hat walked their way back to town, talking about the things his original Flug had accomplished and how traveling to alternate dimensions wasn't as easy as traveling through different planes of existence. Flug soaked in the information like a sponge. It didn't take long for him to realize how much Black Hat knew about so many things Flug couldn't even fathom.

When he asked about his original Flug he noted that Black Hat avoided talking about him personally outside of his inventions. What he could gather was that he was often mistreated and that this was a common pattern among most of the alternate versions of Flug he had seen.

It was pitch black when the made it to the first lonely road. Flug stopped suddenly under the stop light in the middle of the road and looked at the demon, the red light glaring over them.

"If you hated me why are you offering me protection? From what you've told me it sounds like you're the kind of person who would have forced me to obey you with torture. Why change?"

Black Hat stood silent for a moment until he replied, "I've seen you die a thousands times, but the last version of you I saw made me rethink my approach." He glared at him and leaned towards the blonde, he could see the goosebumps on the boys pale skin form. "But remember, the deal was I protect you from everyone except myself. I won't hesitate to _kill_ you, understood."

The light above them turned green.

"Of course, sir."

Once they reached Flug's neighborhood they realized Black Hat wasn't exactly normal in their dimension. Demons and angels and monsters didn't exist to Flug until that night, so he stood there panicking at how to hide the demon.

Black Hat rolled an eye as the boy suggested he hide in the garage. His form melted and he shaped himself into a dog, teeth sharp and eyes red, his hat shrinking only to become a collar with a top hot crest hanging from it.

Flug suppressed a laugh.

"A dog? Well, better hope my mom is a pet-lover. Come on," he motioned him to follow and the two entered one of the houses down the block.

Just as he closed the door behind them, a set of arms pulled Flug into an unwanted hug.

"Flug, where have you been?" His mother asked, pulling herself away but caresseing his face. "The school called and said you went missing after they evacuated everyone to the field. Even your friend, the girl with the pink hair came by and asked if you were ok. Where were you?!" Her motherly worry slowly became a scolding.

"Ah," he thought of the first lie that came to him, "I saw this dog running away from the crowd and I went after him. I…just wanted him to be safe from the stampede of people and I ended up...looking for him until just now because I kind of sort of got lost."

She didn't buy a bit of his story.

"Flug. You know I don't like lies." She glanced at Black Hat in his dog form. "But I love dogs and therefore I almost forgive you for scaring the young out of me," she sighed, "here sit down at the table while I reheat dinner and find something for this cutie." She pet the demons head and he growled.

After they ate Flug retired to his room and crawled straight into bed, exhaustion suddenly catching up to him. Black Hat jumped onto the bed, claiming his own space.

"Hey, what the hell. Just a few minutes ago you were going on about how all powerful and knowing you are, do you even have to sleep?!"

Black Hat glared at him, the most he could as a canine. "When I lost my Flug to a hero possesed by The Messengers they managed to take me by suprise as well. A certain hit damaged my esscense." He twitched. "Unfortunately I'm not as fully intact with all my magic as before. It's disgusting how I actually feel tired."

"Huh. Maybe…we can fix you. These 'Messengers' are a threat then?"

He nodded. "Mind control. Whoever is behind all of this has power that is clearly to my level--which is impossible, mind you. For the time being it is best I stay hidden."

"I see," the boy sighed.

He fell asleep, room darkend by the night.

 _Silly fool_ , the demon thought as he too began to fall asleep, _he didn't even take his goggles off._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still writing Mother Knows Best, but I have a whole playlist of songs that give me Paperhat vibes and I thought why the hell not?


End file.
